


Olisbos

by orphan_account



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: F/M, Nudity, be warned, not my usual fluffy stuff, some humor tho'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-28 00:01:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15036191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Written as part of the Come at Once challenge for the prompt "what in the name of God is that?" Be warned, it is explicit.FYI: I am orphaning this work because it makes me uncomfortable to have under this AO3 account. If I had thought it through I should have posted it under another pseud.





	Olisbos

Watson looked particularly ravishing this morning. The thought forced its way to the forefront of his mind, dug in, held on and made it difficult to concentrate on anything else. Her suit, tight at the waist, today paired with a skirt that hugged her ever so ... her hair loosely swept up, emphasizing the length of her neck, the beauty of her face ... her white shirt, sans tie and open at the collar, allowing eyes to wander down a certain distance if one stood correctly ...

Joan glanced up in time to catch him watching her. His eyes like silk flowed across her body, falling and rising across every mound and valley, caressing as they traversed her form. That look ...the same look she'd seen in the darkened rooms of the brownstone and the light of dawn as it spread across her bed ... that look now wrapped itself round her producing a warmth within her she could not hide from him. 

He did not fail to notice the light pinking of her cheeks; it made her even more desirable if that were possible. 

Sherlock suddenly sighed and cast his eyes downward to the dead body on the floor between them. "Work comes first," he stated softly for his sake more than hers. He snapped on his latex gloves. "Although," he leaned in closer to her, whispering, "...we do need to discuss a change to that rule." He arched his brows, jutted a chin and dropped to his knees. Mr. Turner required attention. 

His suit jacket stretched tight across his back and pants accentuating what she knew lay underneath, made Joan take a beat. Selfishly she was glad few knew the muscled tattooed wildman that hid beneath the carefully buttoned bundle of intellect and acerbic wit. 

As Sherlock commenced his examination, Joan moved away towards the bedroom for a more thorough exploration of Mr. Turner's home and mainly to distract herself from urges inappropriate to a crime scene. 

"He has been bludgeoned from behind I believe." Sherlock announced. "Note, the marks here and here." Marcus noted and duly scribbled in his book.

"Think this might have caused the injuries?" Joan strolled back into the room holding between her two hands what appeared to be a very large stone phallus.

"What in the name of god is that?" Marcus muttered as he walked toward her. 

Sherlock's face showed his keen interest in the artifact as he too approached. "An Ancient Greek olisbos, a dildo if you will. Traders in Miletus made and sold these objects. This is a very rare and gargantuan example of such."

Joan carefully took the stone phallus by the tip, running a gloved finger up its length, "See here, the hairline crack? That looks relatively new." Sherlock's eyes narrowed as he followed her finger. A warm appreciative glow spread across his face before he added his hand to hers to more closely examine.

Marcus watched his consulting detectives excitedly ogling a huge stone cock and sighed. How was it they always caught these cases.

 

Five hours later and the precinct's conference room table now lay covered with ancient phalli in materials ranging from highly polished stone to thousand year old bread.

Mr. Turner, it turned out, had been a connoisseur. A sticky fingered sexologist who for several years now had been discreetly lifting objet d'arts that peaked his interest. Apparently, his interest had been easily peaked. 

"The human species has always been a creative lot," Sherlock proclaimed as he carefully set down yet another member to their expanding collection. Across the table from him, Joan stood bent over examining a very detailed, finely veined olisbos. His eyes drifted from the object to the neckline of her open shirt and the glimpse it provided of her rounded breasts almost slipping their constraints, the hint of nipples behind the fabric becoming more pronounced. He shifted his gaze upwards to her face and found there a reflection of his own need. 

She whispered to him, "There's an examination room in the back hall, rarely used ..."

"Yes...." he stood up immediately. "Shall we take one of these with us, do you think?" He teased as he moved to join her.

"The only one I want is yours," she murmured and just her voice was sufficient to cause a physical reaction in him.

Sherlock was in the process of removing his latex gloves when Marcus returned to the room. They both pivoted guiltily towards him. 

"Ah, Detective Bell! Watson and I are taking a break for a moment." They rushed past Marcus before he could ask any questions. 

A lopsided grin crossed the good detective's face. He took a sip of his coffee and wondered if he should warn Smitty. 

 

The small room's metal door closed tight behind them; the click of it's lock setting them free. In the darkness, a small chair sat at their disposal. 

Joan unbuttoned her suit jacket and his hands helped her pull off the garment and toss it in the direction of the coat rack. Sherlock made short work of his own jacket as she unbuttoned his collar button. It still gave her a thrill to free him from his self imposed constraints, to see that first peak of uncontrolled chest hair. Several more buttons were undone and they took a moment, bodies close enough to feel the warmth but not quite touching.

His hand rose to her blouse, intruding into that space between her breasts that had repeatedly caught his interest throughout the day. With one hand he unbuttoned, while with the other he pulled the material from her shoulder, dropping his lips to it with a kiss and a bite, before making his way to her neck. His open mouth trailed across her delicate jaw, to find her lips. Joan pushed her fingers through his hair and met his kiss with all the passion she had repressed during the day.

Multi-tasking was nothing new to Sherlock or Watson, and as they kissed her shirt was peeled away leaving a white lace bra his next barrier to surmount. She grabbed his head encouraging him as his face dropped to her breast; his mouth encircled her nipple, wet tongue rasping through the thin material seeking flesh. She pulled down on the garment's cup laying herself bare before him. Joan moaned softly with pleasure at the gentle bite of his teeth, the tug, and swirl of tongue on her as he sated his day long desire.

His hands roved down her body until they reached the hem of her skirt. Fingers teased round and under before Sherlock lifted the black material, caressing her thighs as he pushed the skirt upward. Taking hold of her bottom with both hands, he squeezed and held her tight. Her body responded to his touch by pushing up against him in small gyrations. As if predetermined, they both moved towards the back wall; Joan pressed her bare back against the cool bricks for support inviting him to her once more.

Her lips met his and as her tongue slipped past his lips. His fingers pulled aside the lacy material of her panties and slid between lips swollen and wet with desire. Her grip on his shoulders intensified at his touch; her nails digging into his flesh prodded him to his knees. He pulled down at thin scrap of material, stopping to almost reverently kiss her mound, breath in her scent, before he dragged her panties downward, leaving the tangle of lace at her ankles as he pressed his head in towards her. Joan stepped out and kicked the garment away, freeing her to accept him. Holding her hips, he moved his face between her legs; knowing exactly what she needed and what would bring her to ecstasy, his tongue slid through her, separating and encircling, smooth licks and tiny bites, kisses, followed by more forceful ministrations. 

Joan clutched at his head and moaned, pivoting her hips and moving her leg to provide him better access. He grabbed her bottom and moved further underneath her, repeatedly he plunged his long tongue deep into her slick core. Muffling her groans, lest someone here, Joan gyrated hard against his face, her breath quickening until with a gasp she called out his name and asked him to stop.

Confused and gasping with his own excitement, Sherlock pulled his face away and looked up at her. "Stand," she breathily commanded, her voice thick and husky, and he obeyed. She pushed him towards the room's one lone chair and unzipped his trousers. In one swift movement she pulled down his trousers and underwear, releasing his engorged member. Roughly, she pushed him down onto the chair and as Sherlock stared in awe at his partner, she moved onto his lap, spreading her legs on either side of him and slowly lowering herself onto him. Noises of contentment escape his lips as she moved down onto him, taking him in just a little, just the tip and holding him there before pulling back. She repeated the process once or twice more until he was bucking upwards and she took him fully within her. He felt her tighten around him as a mutually satisfactory rhythm was found and quickly increased to double time as flesh satisfied flesh. 

His release came just seconds before her own orgasm clutched at her and undulated waves of physical pleasure through her. Sherlock's head tipped back and she collapsed onto his chest, her arms around his shoulders. 

They sat exhausted, wet, tightly wrapped around each other trying to regain some semblance of control, each thanking the universe for the other. 

Noises outside the door brought them to their senses. Separating from him, Joan sought her purse, pulled out tissues, wipes, and other sundries that they shared as they dressed. She was prepared; this was not the first time nor very likely their last. 

A quick inspection of the other, fixing collars, hair and hems and they were ready to continue their investigation. Sherlock open the room's door and quickly shut it again. He turned round and kissed her. Joan smiled, wiped her lipstick from his mouth and followed him out into the precinct's hall.


End file.
